


The Professor's Return

by athenasdragon



Category: Vingt mille lieues sous les mers | Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenasdragon/pseuds/athenasdragon
Summary: Less than a year. I had not fended off the hollow, aching greed for the ocean—for a return to the Nautilus—for even a full year. My terror was forgotten. Over and over, a few minutes at a time, I would fall deeply asleep and find myself standing in the Grand Saloon. The viewing window opened before me, and there, just beyond the glass, was an endless garden of coral filled with more fish than even Conseil could ever hope to classify. And over and over, as I stepped forward to press my hands against the glass, the vision disappeared and I was back in my berth.





	1. The Call

I remained at my post in Paris for six months before my longing for the sea became too great. In that time, I had caught Conseil’s despairing looks when I spent too long watching at the little boats that slipped up and down the Seine; he was relieved, I think, when I told him that I needed him to watch my desk at the museum while I made a week’s quick journey to the coast to meet a shipment of samples. Ordinarily, my loyal servant would never have allowed me to go alone, even for such a short journey as this—but Conseil, always perceptive, knew that I meant not to return.

“And monsieur is sure that monsieur would prefer to travel by himself?” he asked, setting aside the papers he was organizing to peer at my face. His expression was carefully guarded.

“Monsieur is quite sure, Conseil.” I smiled a little, but I could not keep the heaviness out of my voice as I said, “Thank you.”

“As you say, monsieur. I’m sure it will be a pleasant journey.” He returned my smile and we went back to tidying my office together in silence. Later, after he had shaken my hand and gone home, I slipped a letter among my notes where it would not be found immediately. It was a more complete goodbye than I could bring myself to make in conversation, but it was not a sad note. I was too bursting with excitement to be somber. I gathered the latest revisions of my book, walked through the darkened museum once more, and went back to my little room to feign sleep until the hour that I had determined to meet a driver. In the few moments I dreamed, my vision was filled with blue, rippling light and flitting colorful fish.

* * *

 

I was another four months at sea. If I had thought myself focused on the _Abraham Lincoln_ , that was nothing compared to the intensity with which I scoured the sea now. I hung over the railing and struggled to distinguish the cresting of the waves from the motion of some body beneath them. A whale crested alongside the ship, once, and my heart nearly stopped beating before I realized that its back was too smooth and curved to be the hull I sought.

I barely slept. I ate only what could be carried up to the deck and eaten without much thought. The few clothes I had brought with me began to fray and go rough, but I only noticed as far as to compare their discomfort to the superior clothing I had been accustomed to not so long before.

Less than a year. I had not fended off the hollow, aching greed for the ocean—for a return to the _Nautilus_ —for even a full year. My terror was forgotten. Over and over, a few minutes at a time, I would fall deeply asleep and find myself standing in the Grand Saloon. The viewing window opened before me, and there, just beyond the glass, was an endless garden of coral filled with more fish than even Conseil could ever hope to classify. And over and over, as I stepped forward to press my hands against the glass, the vision disappeared and I was back in my berth.

It was during one such restless night that I forced myself to sleep once more and immediately dropped back into the scene. The glass was piercing cold against my palms. I struggled to make out the details of the fauna, but then the _Nautilus’s_ electric light switched on, illuminating the water and all its inhabitants. An enormous pink fish with a fan-shaped tail like a peacock swam lazily before me, followed by some long, eel-like creature which moved through the water by bending and extending its body like a caterpillar.

I failed to identify any of the creatures my subconscious had conjured for me, but I cared not. All I could do was drink in the fanfare of color and motion which filled my entire view.

“Marvelous, isn’t it, Professor?”

Reluctantly, I tore my gaze from the viewing window and turned to the figure at my left elbow. Captain Nemo stood at my side, his face transformed by one of the brilliant smiles which were reserved for his ship and the wonders of the sea. He glanced over to me and the smile softened when he caught the amazement in my own expression.

I awoke so suddenly that I was upright and out of my bunk before I was fully aware of my surroundings. My chest felt constricted as though by an iron band; I clutched at it out of instinct, as though I would be able to claw away the arresting pain which pierced me.

My breathing stuttered back to its usual rhythm as I looked around at my dark, empty berth. My room was just above the water line, and I could hear the sea’s massive volume hissing and swirling past the hull—but no other noise. I needed air.

I collected my coat and the revisions to my book before I went up on deck; if I was not to sleep any more, I could at least try to keep myself immersed in work when I was not scanning the horizon in quickly-fading hope. The night was cold, and the stars shone bright on the water, which was smooth with lack of wind. We had been making good time under sail, but if there was no breeze by tomorrow, the captain would switch over to the steam engine.

One of the sailors had left a lantern burning next to a coil of rope. I settled myself down, papers stacked precariously on my leg, and tried to limit my glances at the sea as much as possible. Even so, the low light made it difficult to be productive, and sitting still in the cold made me stiff more quickly than I had hoped. It was barely a quarter of an hour before I stood once more, bound my notes back into their cord, and resumed my pacing along the rail.

As I tried to identify the outline of some small island on the dark horizon, I heard a sound so familiar that it took me several seconds to realize that it was out of place: the creak of a hatch opening. I nearly dropped my manuscript in my rush to reach the rail and hang myself over the side to scour the water below.

There—I barely allowed myself to believe what I saw!—there was a dark, ridged hull, and that familiar flat platform atop it, and two dark figures standing on it. My first instinct was to shout to them, but I somehow contained myself to merely waving my arms like a stranded man who had finally spotted a sail in the distance.

One of the figures pointed up at me and spoke to the other in a low, urgent voice. I thought I recognized the cadence of the first mate as he spoke in that mysterious language.

“It’s me! Professor Aronnax!” I called, as soft as I could stand. “Where is the captain?”

“The captain, Professor Aronnax?” a voice said from close behind me. “He is in his quarters. Is anything wrong?”

I turned to see _my_ ship’s first mate, his expression confused and disapproving. He was a short man, his dark hair greying and sparse. I tried to move in front of his view, but we were close enough to the rail that he could easily lean down and see what I had been peering at.

“The ship!” he breathed before spinning about and pushing past me. “The mystery ship! Quick!”

His shouts electrified me with purpose. I had not a moment to spare; no one would listen to my explanations, much less allow me to disembark to return to the _Nautilus_ —and I suspected that that great ship would not stay on the surface long now that the alarm had been sounded. I hurriedly checked the cord which bound my notes and threw them down to the _Nautilus_ ; one of the two figures reached up to catch them reflexively as they neared him.

The next step took a good deal more courage on my part, but the knowledge that I had only one way to be reunited with my manuscript fortified me. With one last look over my shoulder, I swung one leg over the ship’s rail and took a moment to ensure that my trajectory would not send me crashing down onto the _Nautilus_.

One of the figures down on the platform cried out as I remembered to shuck my coat for ease of swimming and moved my other leg over the rail, now perched against it and holding on with all my might. The drop was intimidating, yes, but I was not a poor swimmer, and besides, after all I had seen I felt that I could hardly be afraid of the still, dark water.

Footsteps behind me urged me forward. As the moment finally came, I must report that I felt no fear, but only excitement. I pushed off with my legs and experienced the brief, perfect freedom of falling—and then the crash of the freezing water around me suddenly illuminated my plan’s failings. My swimming skills would be no good if I were too shocked by the cold to use them.

I kicked with what strength I could muster and I thought I must have been nearing the surface by the time a strong hand grabbed my shirt and hauled me bodily onto the platform. My savior did not stop there, but rather pulled me upright, gripped my arm, and tugged me through the hatch and down the staircase with no thought for my stumbling. It was only once we were halfway down and the hatch had been closed behind us that I was allowed to collapse and wipe the water from my face with shaking hands.

“That was reckless of you, Professor,” a familiar voice said in firm, unaccented French. I looked up to see Captain Nemo standing over me, his shirtsleeves soaked up to his elbows and his expression cool.

I smiled.


	2. The Response

Soaked and shivering though I was, I was filled with the warmth of familiarity as I found myself back aboard the _Nautilus_. Bright electric light illuminated the grand staircase, a few crewmembers hurrying towards their duties as the tanks filled and the ship dove—and Captain Nemo, who crossed his arms when I failed to acknowledge his admonishment.

“Captain,” I greeted him with all the warmth of an old colleague. “Forgive me, now that I am back aboard the _Nautilus_ , I can hardly believe it.”

“No? And yet you seem prepared enough.” The captain retrieved my rolled notes from the stair beside me, held them up for emphasis, and handed them to me. “What exactly was your goal, Professor? All that energy spent escaping with your compatriots, yet here you are. Did you commission a ship? Convince the American government to continue their hunt?” His expression, previously cool, was now positively frigid.

I was shocked by the accusation that I would have revealed the secret of the _Nautilus_ to the world. “Captain, I can assure you that such a scheme never crossed my mind! Conseil and I returned to Paris, but I was overcome with the desire to continue my observations. Before I could not only consider my own wellbeing; as a scientist like yourself, I was more than content to travel the seas recording their wonders, but Ned and Conseil were not able to stand the confinement. I might have stayed if they were not so determined to leave and take me with them,” I admitted as my words continued in a rush that I realized I could not quite stop, “but I am here now, responsible only for myself, and you have my word that here I intend to stay.” I stood to emphasize my surety, but turned sheepish when I had to clutch the railing in order to supplement the inadequate support provided by my now-stiff legs. “I-if you will have me, that is.”

Captain Nemo considered me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When I shivered again and had to fumble to avoid dropping my manuscript, he took two steps up to me and took my manuscript with one hand and supported my arm with the other, leading me firmly down the last few stairs and into the _Nautilus_ proper.

“Very well, Professor, if you are so willing to risk life and limb for your scientific inquiries, you may remain aboard at least until you are in a state to discuss things further. You will find dry clothes, a hot meal, and a bed in your old quarters. I suggest that you make use of all three. Are you able to walk unaided?”

So pleased was I by the captain’s acceptance of my presence onboard that I did not realize until that moment that I was still leaning a great deal on his arm as I hobbled down the hallway. “I believe so,” I replied, and tested this theory with a few uneven steps. “Yes,” I concluded.

“Then I will bid you good night, Professor. We will speak tomorrow.” And he nodded his head in a curt farewell before striding back down the hall towards the helm.

“Thank you, Captain!” I called after him, but did not realize until I had made my slow way back to my room that he had taken my manuscript with him.

I quickly forgot any concern this may have caused when I saw the suit of clothes laid out on my bed and the tray of hot food on my desk. The clothes were the soft, sea-spun fabric I had missed so much—and the food, the food! Half a dozen dishes of oceanic delicacies that I was much too exhausted to identify, but the scent was so familiar and appetizing that I almost began eating before I had even changed out of my soaked clothes.

By the time I finished eating, I was so warm and comfortable that it was tempting to fall asleep in my chair, but I forced myself to stagger across my cabin and fall into the little bed. The sound of the water against the _Nautilus’s_ hull was like a soothing melody lulling me to sleep. I could not stop smiling to myself, alone though I was, out of sheer delight at being back where I had so longed to be. Just before my eyes closed, I caught the strains of an actual melody: far away, almost inaudible through so many walls and over the sounds of the ship, Captain Nemo was playing a somber tune on the organ.

* * *

 

When I awoke, I had no way of knowing what time it was. I switched on the light to find that the remains of the previous night’s meal had been cleared and fresh food had been left in its place. Everything was delicious. I recognized the sea star jelly that the captain had served us when we first came aboard the _Nautilus_ , and there were nearly a dozen small dishes of various oceanic delicacies. It was a veritable feast.

Even though I had only slept since I last ate, I found myself to be ravenous, and I made good work of my breakfast—if that was indeed the meal I was eating. When I was finished, it struck me that perhaps the reason that food had been brought while I slept was that I had been confined to my quarters. It would not have been the first time that Captain Nemo had sequestered me to one part of the _Nautilus_ while he evaluated the situation. My theory was refuted, however, when I tried the door and found it unlocked. Perhaps the meal delivery had simply been a courtesy.

I stepped into the hallway and looked around. The door to the captain’s quarters was open, but a cautious look inside found him absent. There were no crew in this area of the ship. Pleased though I was to be back aboard, I was uncertain as to my privileges. Could I simply go to the Grand Saloon and begin taking notes on my observations, or was I expected to wait for Captain Nemo? He had told me that I could remain aboard until we discussed my position—did that mean that I was still at risk of being ejected from the ship?

In the absence of anyone to ask, I decided to go to the Grand Saloon and see if the viewing window was open. If Captain Nemo was waiting to speak with me, he was likely to be there, and it was the place I had missed the most.

The viewing window was not open. The room was empty.

However, on the table near the back of the room, I found my manuscript, its pages spread out as though someone had been poring over it. My own notes were so close-crowded that it took me a moment to recognize that a second set of annotations had been begun in neat, miniscule handwriting.

A smile crept over my face as I read the notes. I was sure they came from Captain Nemo, both because of their handwriting and their content. Many were corrections on specific small details of morphology; others expanded the range of creatures I had only seen in one place (“also found in the South Pacific,” “found as far East as the coast of the United States,” and so on).

In one place—a passage where I had carefully omitted my observations of Atlantis, leaving only a catalogue of the marine life we had seen—Nemo’s pen had skimmed under my words as though he had been following along as he read quickly. I could picture him hunched over the table, his brow furrowed as he turned page after page. Had he been looking for indiscreet mentions of the _Nautilus_? If so, he had found none. I had never spoken or written a word of our adventures, except to Conseil and Ned Land. Instead, Nemo had found a particularly enthusiastic description of a saltwater eel, and had left an exclamation mark in the margin alongside it. The image of him in my mind smiled a little as he did so.

“Ah, Professor. I hope that you are well-rested from your daring escapade.”

I turned to find Nemo standing in the doorway to the library, arms crossed and leaning casually against the door frame. “Yes, thank you! I slept very well.” I gestured to the papers on the table. “I see that you’ve been reading over my work.”

“Indeed. There were some minor inaccuracies, but overall it is a strong second edition.”

“You read… all of it?”

Nemo walked over the table and spread a few of the pages out almost absently. “It would seem so, yes.”

“I must have slept for some time,” I chuckled nervously, trying to ignore the strange excitement I felt as he came face to face with me.

“Only a few hours.”

“Then you did not sleep?”

Nemo looked at me with one of his odd, unreadable expressions. “I was considering your situation, Professor. It seems that you were telling the truth about keeping the secret of the _Nautilus_. There is no mention of her in your book.”

“And I spoke not a word of my adventures,” I agreed eagerly. “I have spent more time trying to return to the Nautilus than I spent back in Paris. I would never have jeopardized you.”

“Then perhaps we ought to discuss your future on this ship. You snuck away with your compatriots once, and at a most inopportune moment. How can I be assured that you will not do so again?”

I took a breath to steel myself, determined to be honest. After all, if I intended to spend the rest of my life in close quarters with Captain Nemo, it would be best to have everything in the open. “Captain, the last time I was aboard the _Nautilus_ , I was dismayed by what I felt to be your unjustified violence towards the ships you pursued. My companions had been urging me to escape with them for some time, and this last incident filled me with such fear and confusion that I finally complied. Since leaving, however, I believe that I have come to better understand your motivations.” I remembered the scene of Nemo sobbing before the portrait of his family and pushed it quickly from my mind, determined not to let him know that I had seen it. “I still cannot condone such—such actions, but I am not the authority aboard the _Nautilus_. I made my peace with that when I decided to return.”

I realized that I had not quite looked Nemo in the face during this whole speech; when I did, I was surprised to see he smiled softly. “And what, pray tell, was so important that you were willing to forego your morals and return to the sea? Are you so determined in your research?” He picked up a few pages of my manuscript and held them out to me, but did not extend his arm.

“I am a man of science, Captain. My curiosity overcame me.” I took two steps forward to take them, bringing us nearly nose to nose, but when I grasped the papers Captain Nemo did not let them go.

His smile widened. “Your curiosity?”

“Well,” I hedged, growing bolder but still rather flustered by our proximity, “there are certain… specimens… which can only be found at depth, and I could hardly leave my accounts incomplete.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. And close observation makes for more accurate science, after all.”

Nemo laughed and finally let go of my manuscript, which I promptly dropped onto our feet when he cupped my face in both his hands and kissed me.

I had never been so thoroughly kissed. I think that I must have made some noise of surprise, for he pulled back almost at once, but I prevented his retreat by grasping the front of his coat and pulling him against me. There was some part of me that expected him to be cold as the ocean, but he was not—he was warm, and that warmth flooded through me as well. The only way in which Nemo matched the sea was intensity as he wrapped an arm around my lower back and deepened the kiss.

By the time he pulled away we were both panting. I loosened my grip on his coat but did not let go, just as he did not remove his arm from my waist.

“Well,” I began, but trailed off when I realized I had no earthly idea how to form a coherent sentence. This made Nemo laugh again, and I realized in a rush that it was that sound which I had been chasing around the globe those past months.

Nemo nodded behind me towards the viewing window. “Don’t let me keep you from your observations, Professor. I know that you must be anxious to begin.”

I cleared my throat and managed a weak “Yes.”

“And I don’t expect that your moral dilemmas will be in your way, either.”

“No?”

“No, the situation to which you alluded is no longer, shall we say, relevant.” He smiled as he walked over to the lever which opened the viewing window. The screen slid up to reveal a dazzling world of blue; the Nautilus was near the surface, where the activity of every fish and diving bird was illuminated by the bright sunlight filtering down through the waves. I knew that my face was displaying every bit of wonder, excitement and relief I felt, and I did not much care to temper them.

I tore my gaze away at last to respond to Nemo. “Then you are no longer pursuing the ships of that country which so wronged you?”

“It is as you said, Professor. We are men of science.” He came to stand behind me, hand on my shoulder as we both looked out at the bustling activity of the sea. “There is much to keep us occupied beneath the waves.”

I put my hand on his, and I smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love on this fic! And for those of you worried about Conseil: after a little time, I think Nemo certainly turns a blind eye to some communication/brief shore trips so that Aronnax can check in.


End file.
